


Revenge

by bloodred_ander



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Attempted Murder, Character Death, Detectives, M/M, Murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-14 19:53:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5756185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodred_ander/pseuds/bloodred_ander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Our boy was found beaten beyond recognition, right? But no one else in the room showed any signs of physical altercation. The only injuries they had, were the gunshot wounds. A bullet each, straight to the heart."</p>
<p>"Our boy had a gunshot wound too," Ramsey says, picking up where Debuchy left off. "But the only reason he isn't dead yet is because the bullet missed his heart by an <em>inch</em>."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revenge

**Author's Note:**

> Because I just needed to write a fic that had Olivier Giroud as a detective jfc!!

Olivier looks at the two men in front of him with a skeptical gaze. They had come knocking on his door a minute or so ago claiming they needed his help and had introduced themselves as Chief Inspector Debuchy and Inspector Ramsey. Now, if this had happened a few years back; if some cop had come to ask him for help, Olivier wouldn't have been surprised. He'd have jumped at the offer even. But no one, not a single law man in their right mind would want his help now. Not after what he'd caused.

Swallowing back his sudden overwhelming surge of emotions, Olivier tries to tell them to go away. He wants to say that he's not interested, that he doesn't work anymore. But he can't bring himself to do that because it's been too long since someone needed him. And the idea of getting back to work after years of doing nothing but mope, seems very appealing.

"Well then, Detective Inspector Giroud, aren't you going to invite us in?" Ramsey, the slightly taller, more obviously annoying one asks with a smile. Olivier's already fed up of him. 

He steps aside and both the officers step into his rather messy living room. Ramsey looks around in obvious distaste but the chief, Debuchy, keeps his eyes studiously fixed on Olivier. 

"Can I, um," Olivier fumbles a little with the formalities because it's been so long since anyone's payed him a visit. "Can I offer you something?"

"No, thank you," Debuchy says but not unkindly. "We're just here to talk."

Olivier looks from him to Ramsey and then back. "About what?" he asks dubiously. From his own personal experience, cops paying you a visit just to "talk" was never a good thing. So obviously Olivier was plenty nervous. 

"Like I said earlier," Debuchy says, either ignoring or having not noticed Olivier's unease. "We need your help."

Olivier calms down a little at that but not completely. "Need my help with what?"

"A case, obviously," Ramsey says. "Multiple homicide and attempted suicide. Well, we say attempted because the person isn't dead. Yet. Case is pretty gruesome. Also, kind of mind-boggling, and, um, we think it might interest you."

Olivier snorts and shakes his head. "And the department needs _my_ help to solve this case? After almost three years of not needing me at all?"

Ramsey looks like he wants to say something; he keeps opening and closing his mouth, with a rather deep frown on his face. In the end he just snaps his mouth shut and looks to his superior, waiting for him to explain things. Debuchy himself looks like he has trouble finding the right words to say.

"Detective," Debuchy starts, uncertainly. "You see, I've just been here a week. I was transferred. Things are a little different here than from where I previously worked. Just how different I found out when we started investigating this case two days ago. Almost everybody at the station, is ready to blame this massacre on someone who I believe is innocent."

Olivier nods to show he's following everything Debuchy is saying.

"They just need someone to blame, doesn't matter who. They need someone to put behind bars to avoid unrest with the public, yes? And my superiors, as ashamed as I am to say this, do not want to waste resources or time on a case that can be closed off rather easily. All by blaming the wrong person."

"And how do I fit into this?" Olivier asks, his unease bubbling up again. Ramsey still looks antsy but at least Debuchy seems calm.

"Because no matter how I've approached this case, it just doesn't make sense," Debuchy looks sincere as he adds, "and you are the best, detective, which is why I need your help to solve this."

Olivier smiles sadly as he says, "You're new here. That's the only reason why you're at my house, asking for my help. It's because you don't kn-"

"I do know what happened," Debuchy cuts him off. "I don't blame you for it because it wasn't your fault; what was supposed to happen, did happen. And I have also read the reports on the number of cases you did solve, which are pretty impressive. Now, not to be rude or anything detective, but I'd really like to discuss the case."

Olivier just looks at Debuchy, completely stunned by his words. It's Olivier's turn to struggle for words now, and when he finds none, he nods for Debuchy to proceed.

Debuchy glances at Ramsey, waiting for him to do the talking now. Ramsey looks excited to get down to business. Or just to talk in general. 

"It's a peculiar case detective," he starts. "There's no sign of a break in, nothing seems to be missing from the house so it doesn't seem like an attempted robbery either. A closed room, six victims, all shot by the same gun."

Olivier looks at him with a raised eyebrow. "Why is this so peculiar?"

"When we got there," Ramsey begins with a challenging smirk, "five of the six were dead. One of them was fatally injured so we rushed him to the hospital. The doctors still aren't sure if he'll pull through. All this isn't something unusual, I get it, but the gun that was used to kill the others, had this guy's fingerprints all over it."

Before Olivier can open his mouth to say something, Debuchy speaks up.

"Our boy was found beaten beyond recognition, right? But no one else in the room showed any signs of physical altercation. The only injuries they had, were the gunshot wounds. A bullet each, straight to the heart."

"Our boy had a gunshot wound too," Ramsey picks up where Debuchy left off. "But the only reason he isn't dead yet is because the bullet missed his heart by an _inch_."

"He could have shot himself," Olivier speculates. But the two cops in front of him were right, this case was quite peculiar. If this guy did indeed shoot the others and then himself, how the hell did he get beaten up so badly? He could have done that to himself as well but why? Wouldn't the obvious choice of action be to run away once all his victims were dead? It just didn't add up at all.

"Nope," Ramsey shakes his head with another smirk. "Ballistics have confirmed that the shot's been fired from a distance. If our boy would have shot himself, the area around his wound would have been singed. Because you see _Detective_ , when a gun is fired at close proximity, which isn't the case here, th-"

"The powder burns, which is basically extensive tissue damage caused by the burning propellant, will cover the area right around the entry wound," Olivier finishes for him. "I know that _Inspector_."

Ramsey puts both his hands up in a placating gesture. "I never said you didn't."

"But," Debuchy interjects with a roll of his eyes, "our boy was completely clean. Or at least his gunshot wound was."

"Hm. And there were no signs of a break in," Olivier confirms and both the men nod. "Interesting."

"Yeah," Ramsey says, sounding extremely smug. Olivier wants to punch him in the face. "We knew you'd say that."

"But," Olivier speculates again. "it could also be that there was someone else in the room with the others. Someone who, after killing everybody else, beat up this guy of yours and then shot him. And then left."

Debuchy shakes his head with a smile of his own. "When we got there, the door was locked from the inside. But even still, we had forensics sweep the entire room. They found nothing that indicated an extra presence in the room apart from the six already present there."

"Did you identify everyone in the room?" Olivier asks, his mind working a mile a minute. With every passing second, he can't see why taking up the opportunity to work on this case would be a bad idea.

"Yes," Debuchy says. Olivier waits for him to say more but when he doesn't, Olivier gets the point. They're using his curiosity to bait him into saying yes. And damn them, it was working. 

"So will you help us then?" Ramsey asks hopefully. Olivier looks at him for a second before turning to look at Debuchy. It only takes him a few more seconds to make up his mind.

"Who was it that called the police?" Olivier asks in lieu of an answer. Both the Inspectors glance at each other uncertainly before Debuchy answers.

"Jade Maria Dubois. She's the neighbour's daughter."

"Neighbour's daughter?" Olivier asks. "How old is she?"

"Nine," Ramsey answers with a sigh. "Hasn't been of much help so far though, apart from the phone call that she made to the police, she hasn't said a word. And she's also our prime witness."

"So what you're telling me is that a _nine year old kid_ is our prime witness?" Olivier asks incredulously.

"Yep," Ramsey says, popping the 'p'. "A neighbourhood where people have security guards for almost every room they sleep in and the only witness to the murder of five people is a kid. Unbelievable."

"Can you get her to the police station?" Olivier asks and Debuchy nods.

"Great. I'll meet you there in ten minutes," Olivier tells them as he walks towards the front door and opens it, gesturing for them to get out. Both the officers smile at him, a little too smugly, before they take their leave. Olivier closes the door behind them and makes his way over to his bedroom. He pulls out his gun from his underwear drawer and digs around in his nightstand for his ID.

The moment he finds that, he rips off the t-shirt and boxers that he'd been wearing and rushes into the bathroom for a quick shower. And also to make himself look a little more presentable considering the fact that he looks like a caveman. He's done in record time. As he towels himself dry, he steps over to his cupboard and pulls out a blue button down and a pair of black jeans. His shirt is terribly crushed but there's little he can do about that now. Once he's dressed, Olivier straps his holster onto his belt and sheaths his gun in it. He slips his ID into his pocket, grabs his phone and car keys from the coffee table and slips on a black trench coat just before he rushes out the front door.

And this is where his anxiety kicks in stronger than ever. 

It'd been a long time since anyone had offered him a case. Olivier wasn't going to lie; it felt great that people needed him again. He was dying to get back to work, excited to do something that wasn't just sitting at home watching crappy TV shows. But there was also the guilt and regret, fear and self-loathing, now stronger than it had been in the last few years, eating away at him.

What if he failed? What if wasn't able to solve this case? What if more people got hurt because of him, because he was too sure of himself, too arrogant?

No. He couldn't let that happen. Not again. Olivier doubted that he'd be able to forgive himself for something like that the second time around.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, there will be more.
> 
> No, I don’t know when I'll be able to update next. Though I will most probably stick to a weekly update schedule. (And if that doesn't work then maybe monthly)
> 
> This idea just suddenly popped into my head thanks to the movie Kill Bill, so I typed it out on my phone (which would explain the grammatical errors that are bound to be there and I apologize for that), decided that I didn't want to sit on it and then posted it here.
> 
> Feedback would be appreciated very much :)


End file.
